Epitome
by Tenshi no Nozomi
Summary: The things that haunt us are those we want the most and are denied. Submission to 30Houshin on LiveJournal. HPSM cross, Remus Usagi


**Title**: Epitome

**Author**: Tenshi no Nozomi

**Theme**: #85 (picture-perfect, ideal, ivory-tower)

**Summary**: The things that haunt us are those we want the most and are denied.

**Pairing**/**Characters**: Usagi + Remus (Harry Potter)

**Rating**: PG-13

**Disclaimer**: This was written solely for entertainment purposes—no profit has been made off of it. Whatever illusions of grandeur I may possess, they do not include in any way owning Sailor Moon or Harry Potter. This piece is a part of a 30-themes challenge community called 30Houshin on LiveJournal. Please come check us out!

**Author's** **Notes**:

And here I was beginning to think I was never going to produce anything for the group of my own creation! This was quite unexpected in that I hadn't planned on writing it when it actually spilled itself out, but I'm pleased with it. This is the shortest thing I've written in quite a while; I got it all done in one sitting, believe it or not.

Thanks to Usa-chan and Michi-chan for kindly pre-reading for me to check for any glaring errors.

llxxxll

The shift had left him weak, his body trembling with exertion. High above the moon rode in the inky skies, calling to him, a demanding mistress. He could feel it, even underneath the cold ground in this tiny little shack. And all he could smell was succulent strawberries, ripe for picking; red roses growing wild in the brambles; blood fresh and flowing and salty and tangy and life-giving.

So he ran, out from underneath the protection of his little hideaway, to stalk the tall grasses of the castle grounds. He could smell faintly the flesh of other students, warm pulsing bodies by now tucked away safe in their warm beds. But they weren't the ones he wanted to sink a tooth into, oh no—only her, the one who smelled like the moon and wild forests and days of old when beasts such as he were feared but never cornered, never caged, never killed by their prey. But he could never step foot onto those grey stones; spells thick as tree sap hung in the air drug him back and left him breathless and snarling but defeated.

He howled, hungry and desperate, and the haunting song snaked like a ghost through the chilly night air. Vaguely he could remember in the back of his head he wasn't a wolf but a boy, a scared little boy who wanted nothing more than to be asleep in the castle. Instead he was trapped in a body that was but wasn't his, familiar but alien. His friends, who normally escorted him, were trapped inside, relegated to late-night detention. But these thoughts were soft and easily pushed aside and forgotten.

No, not forgotten—purposefully abandoned. That weak part of him wanted mercy and feared the kill. He disdained it, that soft silly thing that normally had the body that ought to belong to him. He was the stronger of the two of them, but only when the moon shone full on nights like this could he have his moment and show that sniveling meek thing what it was like to truly _live_.

And it protested and cried and beat against him when the change came, but he always prevailed, and in some way that distant piece of him that could have been more cowered because he enjoyed it. Enjoyed the feel of the wind and moon and grass, the smell of prey, the thrill of the hunt, and the rush of blood down _their_ throat.

And suddenly, that sweet scent so close, so sharp, so _real. _He spun and moved toward it, streaking like lightning given muscles and claws and eyes, through grass and past the whipping tree, toward the stones that smelled so much like prey. Victory looping through his veins, surging; he could almost taste it, that power.

He was upon it before he'd expected; he stopped just short of his quarry. It was as the other part of him—that weaker part of him that sickened him—knew it to be. '_Beautiful_,' it called the creature before them. And in that moment, desire swelled—for blood, and for more. Much more. In that moment, brains confused and intermingled, they saw as one the potential for a mate. A cream and golden wolf to match their own pewter grey; a girl with the longest blonde hair they'd ever seen with blue eyes deep as the ocean.

She would not have him—did not know he existed, that poor meek creature that was unaccustomed to love and half-afraid of lust. They were in two different groups—'_Just_ _what_ **_is_** _a_ _Hufflepuff_?' the beast wanted to know—and there were showier males, if not stronger ones. She would never know, and someday she would belong to someone else, and he would never have said a word, frozen by his own inexperience.

'_But we **can** have her_,' it realized. It could take her, by force, the way it had been done for centuries, the way all beasts such as he took females, by biting them. And that little voice protested, just a tiny bit—'_She_ _will hate us_,' it insisted. But it was so small, and victory seemed imminent, and in their mind rode an image of someone to match them, to be theirs, and saying no was no longer an option.

Reason was lost in the tumult of want and need. He growled—if she would run, they would give chase, and they could take her. It was in the rules, as old as time and known by all creatures, if even only in that deepest part of their mind that sends chills up their spines. If she ran back toward the castle, he would have to quickly take her down, or risk losing her—for good, probably. She would never venture outside at night again knowing what had called to that deep part of her.

That he had called to her and she had come was a miracle. It was proof in itself that she belonged with them. There was something in her that called like a siren, the same feel that he got from the moon. No doubt she felt the same. Perhaps that was why she didn't run.

She didn't move at all, simply stood as motionless as a great redwood, staring at him. He could smell a vague fear in her—she would have been foolish not to fear him. Her blood pulsed quickly in her small pale body, and he knew in that moment how easy it would be to change a bite that would change her into a killing blow. But despite it, seeing him, she didn't run.

Her blue eyes stayed on him fascinated. He stepped closer—he wanted to be close, to feel the heat of her body. He took steps forward, crouching low, and keeping his eyes on her. She stared back at him, trembling slightly, but not moving. They locked eyes.

And somehow, in some way, she knew. He could see it in the way her face transformed; her mouth melted from breathy parted lips to an astonished 'o.' Recognition passed through her eyes. Not just of the kind that passed between predator and prey or between would-be-mates, or even the kind that would be merited by her similar disposition to the moon. Likewise, he could feel it running through him, them—and they were curious but afraid. It was something deeper, more powerful, and for a moment the world was ripped asunder and all was unveiled.

She was an ivory white goddess, glowing and pale and fierce and beautiful. But she was too much, so much more. He'd thought her to have a connection with the moon. No, oh no—this creature was of the moon, a small shard carved out of the greater whole, waiting to return to the rest of it. And in her was the soul of it, of the moon: governor, seductress, companion, mother, guardian, all entwined. And she was what he wanted—exactly what he could have ever hoped for, possessor of more than he could ever hope to claim as his own, but too much. The moon was his kind's master, never the other way around—not even equals, not ever.

And there was jealousy, anger, and a deeper longing than either of them had ever known for what they could not have.

And at the same moment they were separated, torn apart and seen separately. For the first time in a long time Remus's mind was empty of all but his own thoughts. The beast wasn't there, wasn't clamoring for something, and he was just a normal boy with sandy brown hair and amber eyes. The beast was beside him, separate, dazed and frightened, growling and bristling. And for once, he felt a sort of triumphant pleasure over it, that thing, the monster that had existed in him for so long, that had tried to tell him it _was_ him, or at least a part of him.

But he could feel her eyes on him—not just him, but on the beast, too. Blue eye were soft with understanding and pity and recognition. And he knew in that moment he'd been wrong—she knew him, if not in the way that close friends or lovers do. Knew him and felt _sorry _for him. For them. For the human, who was a boy and a nice person and cursed, and for the beast that was trapped by unnatural causes in the body of a creature that rejected what it was by its own natural right.

And in that moment a deep shame reverberated in the two of them. She saw them as the abomination of what was meant to be by all natural rights, a cursed and pitiful being. And as surely as she could have seen them and felt their separate pieces of the whole, so had she felt their wholehearted desire and the realization of crushing denial.

And then the world snapped together again, boy and wolf one and the same, girl no longer goddess but simply mortal. They staggered on their legs—they had four, not two—and she made a move toward them. To help them, to touch them, maybe; and he was weak and confused but not _that _weak and confused. He knew her for what she was, knew that neither of them could ever have her, and felt the bitter taste of defeat in his mouth like poisonous berries. It was so painful, like being ripped open by an alpha male, like finding out his parents had been torn apart and were dead and buried and he alone. So alone, always alone, and not even the moon's presence would ever make them feel whole.

They moved away from her, as quickly as they could, into the dark looming forest filled with dangerous things, truly wanting in that moment to die rather than be faced with life without. It was all a rush of dark shadows and emerald greens with the echo of teary blue eyes. If only for a moment—in that moment—she had wanted them the way they wanted her, had been denied with as much finality simply by what they were, what she could never be. And he howled, and howled, and howled.

Remus woke up, alone, beneath the thin sheets of his cot. His face was wet, the way it always was after that particular memory. Not even the beast, which was as ugly and hard a creature as he'd ever known, blamed him for it. If anything, a small part of it cried too. Remus knew enough about werewolves now to know that the beast would only recognize one worthy mate in its lifetime. Once upon a time, the knowledge that the wolf would be as lonely as he might have entertained him. Now it was just a sad reminder of his fate.

Remus licked his lips, wishing for the taste of fresh strawberries, tart and sweet. It was the wrong season, of course, but the craving always came whenever the dream did. It was always at the back of his mind, a scar that refused to completely heal, a craving that could never truly be satisfied. It hurt so much to feel it all again, but at the same time, it felt so good. He couldn't remember the last time he'd truly felt so strongly—the pain and love came at once, as always, and life was otherwise rather lacking.

Oh, there were a few people he cared for deeply—Harry, for one. But most of the others were gone, lost to time or death. Sirius, Dumbledore, his parents, James—and of course, the blonde. Usagi. He remembered the way he'd laughed all those years later when he found out what her name meant. Of course, another symbol of incompatibility. A rabbit for his wolf. Either it would escape, or be devoured. And a wolf—natural or were—had no right to touch a creature so closely related to the moon in such a way.

He rolled over in his bed. It would be a while yet before sleep could reclaim him, but he could tell that morning was still several hours away. And in the mean time, he would dwell on how cold it was, the lack of warmth. What he would have given to have that girl warm and lying beside him! But she was just a memory now, a specter lingering in a heart that couldn't bear to give up on his ideal.

A part of him—the tired, lonely, dying part of him—reminded him of Tonks's confession. Such a sweet girl. She claimed that she could love him, beast or not, and he believed her. She was much like Sirius; curses did not seem to daunt her. But it seemed wrong, perverse, to tangle himself with a woman he knew he would never be able to love completely.

He would always compare her to a girl he'd never even kissed, always wish to see those blue eyes gazing up at him and those blonde tresses undulating across his sheets. If she were to take a similar seeming one day out of fun, and he were to forget and respond to her as though she were the girl who hid the soul of the moon within her body…. Remus knew he would never be able to hide his disappointment when he realized that the body held to his was a pale replacement, however much Tonks might love him and be a genuinely good person.

Even if she could accept the other parts of him, she could never understand that, and it would only hurt her. And he could never explain it, because it was something embedded so deeply in the magic and in the curse that Remus wasn't sure a natural human being could comprehend. Soulmate wasn't close enough. Opposite didn't convey it, either. She was somewhere in between, everything either part of him had dreamed of consciously or otherwise. And nothing he could have.

After all, the moon could be governor, seductress, companion, mother, and guardian. But never had it been lover.

llxxxll

Holy crap. For such a short thing, it packs quite the bitter little punch. I hadn't known it was going to come out like this, honestly. I've been trying to write it for months—I've had this idea in my head since before I started 30Houshin, but it never felt like it came out right. And then suddenly, around 11:30 as I should be getting ready to go to bed I get the sudden urge to open up word and write and there it is. Only, that's an inappropriate way to describe it. More like, the muse found me, lured me out in the open, and grabbed me by my hair and pulled me the whole way along.

I kind of wanted my first RemUsa piece to be, well, sweeter and softer than this. I can't say I'm disappointed at the moment by what's come out—in a way, I feel it's exactly the way it should be. Hopefully someday I'll get inspiration for some kind of sequel; I hate the idea of leaving Remus so pitifully alone.

For those of you who found yourselves getting confused by Remus/the wolf's thoughts, I apologize. But they are meant to be that way.

I'd also like to admit that I had some other trouble with this piece—naming it, and picking a theme. First I wanted to call it "Mother Moon." But that just didn't seem to match, especially with the way this piece ends. In the end, "Epitome" sums it up quite nicely, I think. But perhaps this is arrogance on my part. As for the theme, because I was working from an ambiguous point of origin, I didn't want to cage it before I started it. So I just picked what I felt was best after I'd finished writing the piece—which is probably what most people do anyway, but hey. Hopefully it's not too awkward of a fit. Let me know what you think, please.

Please feed a hungry author with reviews!


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